Excuses, Excuses

I created this blog, expecting to be able to gush about my music life; writing entry upon entry about the deep meaningful songs I create, swearing that this one will definately be the one that gets me somewhere. But things never happen that way do they?

Of course, I have those songs under my belt that seem to come together so flawlessly, lyrics and all. I have those songs that when I sing them, I honestly wish I could emobdy the note I am projecting. And when I sit back in my room, writing my music, I imagine what it would be like if I was on a deadline for a major record company, shelling out my last bit of creative juice, wondering if this single will sky-rocket me back to the number one spot on the billboards.

I could blame my lack of popularity to the distaste of the public. I could blame it on my parents, saying they never encouraged me to go after my dreams. I could even blame it on school. Those crazy teachers sucked the artistic life out of me... But none of those excuses are valid. I have talked to quite a few people who enjoy my music, my parents devote most of their days encouraging and reassuring me that I can make my music a career...and to top it all off, I went to an arts school, where they expected you to eat, drink and breathe your talent. Yes sir, my excuse is.....myself. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to following my dreams. I fill myself with nothing but doubt. I always think about the many things that could go wrong if I decide to follow a life of music. I might not make money. I probably won't like the lifestyle. Will the constant pressure to make art actually make me hate it? By the time I'm finished trying to answer all these questions, I'm cleaning up my house instead of practicing my guitar. Lately, it must think it's come down with a case of leprosy because I haven't gone near it.

My guitar and the very voice I speak with is a constant reminder: If you don't start working on your music now, you won't ever get anywhere with it. And I believe that's true. At the beginning of my summer break before my first year of college, I confessed to my mom that my biggest concern towards having a career that deals with the arts is the aspect of money. I thought that it was so hard to make money in that industry. But my mom told me that I musn't focus on the money, but I should focus on the art, and that will take me further than anything else will. And of course, like any outstanding mother is, she's right.

I have my weeks where I feel I have been put on this earth to create music for people to hear. However, that is usually a week where I have written a great song. Tke weeks that are consumed with work and stress tend to be the bad ones in which I push my music away.

But no matter how hard I try to be interested in anything else, my heart always leads me back to my instrument. When I don't play my music, I feel empty. I feel depressed. Through this horrible process of self doubt, which I think can be far worse than doubt from others, I find my passion again; every time. It never fails.

As a matter of fact, as I write this post, I can feel the grips of passion clawing its way back into my lungs, back into my voice, back into my fingers tips. So I will leave you with the the message of this post to ponder, because I have to go heal my guitar of its leprosy.